Page 93 of Kissed By the Gods
“I just needed a minute to breathe!” I shoot back, but I don’t wrench free from his hold. Even with the sting, I want his hands on me.
“Sweet Serephelle,” he mutters, releasing me. He paces a step away, then spins on me again, eyes blazing.
“This isn’t afuckinggame, Leina! You think you don’t have enemies here? You think people are thrilled to see a Selencian woman—thefirst—training as an Altor?” He practically spits the words. The words, which land harder than his grip. I open my mouth—then close it again, my heartbeat thudding in my ears.
Beneath all that fury, there’s fear. And beneath that … something else. Something I don’t think he knows how to name. And he’s right. I’ve been protected by the raw might of Ryot, by the loyalty of our own cast, and sheltered by Stormriven after that. This was a reminder that not everyone welcomes me here.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Truly. And I won’t go off on my own again.”
Ryot comes back to me, pressing his forehead to mine. He cups my face in his cold hands and then just breathes, as if trying to calm his heartbeat through sheer force of will. Or maybe, by assuring himself that I’m alright.
I cover his hands with mine, and he relaxes.
“Ryot!” A voice calls out from down the hill, behind the trees that block us from view of the Synod.
Ryot drops his hands from my face and falls back.
“Ryot,” the voice calls out urgently. I manage to rip my eyes from Ryot’s and turn to the trees before Nyrica comes into view. He’s running up the hill. “A larkling arrived from Carrisfal. There’s been an attack,” he says, as he jogs over to us. “They’re holding them back, but you’re to ride out now with a contingent to provide reinforcements.”
Carrisfal, Carrisfal … I work to recall the maps I’ve been studying, maps of places I didn’t even know existed a few months ago. Carrisfal is an island to the south of us. It’s the only inhabited island in the Ebonmere Sea since the outbreak of the Eternal Wars. The Synod maintains a presence on Carrisfal and some of the other islands to make sure the Kher’zenn can’t establish a physical presence that much closer to Faraengard.
Ryot’s face shutters, his walls go up. “How bad?”
Nyrica’s own face is grim. “I don’t know. Bad enough that they’re sending a full contingent.”
Sweet Serephelle. A full contingent is 100 Altor warriors, 25 from each vanguard. Ryot starts for the Synod, his long stride eating up the ground. I’m nearly running to keep up with him, Nyrica keeping pace with me.
Ryot spins on Nyrica before we break through the tree line. “I can’t abandon Leina’s training now.”
I open my mouth to ask why they’re sending Ryot, if they’re not sending the rest of our cast, but Nyrica gets to it first. “You know they won’t let you stay behind to train a ward, not with something like this.”
“Fuck!” Ryot shouts, shoving his hand into his friend’s chest. “You keep Leina with you at all times. You watch over her like she’s …”
Ryot trails off, his sharp words coming to a grinding halt.
Nyrica quirks an eyebrow, a hint of humor sneaking through, despite the palpable tension.
“Like she’s what?” I ask.
“Yes, Ryot. Watch over her like she’s what?” Nyrica eggs him on.
“Like she’s blessed by the gods,” Ryot finishes, his tone weirdly flat, as he turns away from us and marches down the hill.
“Ryot!” I call out. He stops, but he doesn’t reply; he doesn’t even turn around. I’m at a loss for words. What do you tellyour enemy-turned-ally-turned-something-else-entirely before he runs off to a dangerous battle? He doesn’t give me much time to figure it out before he restarts his aggressive stalking toward the Synod.
“Silent skies upon you, Ryot of Stormriven,” I finally get out the standard Faraengardian benediction. His stride falters, the only indication that he heard me, before he continues down the hill.
Nyrica flashes me a grin and slaps me on the shoulder before slinging his arm around me, pulling me into his side. The two of us continue back to the towering fortress at a much more relaxed pace.
I twine my arm around Nyrica’s back, relieved at the simple comfort in his touch. It’s so different from the push-and-pull tension when I’m with Ryot.
“Well, Miss Blessed-by-the-Gods, now that your tyrant is gone, do you have time in your busy training schedule for a drink?”
I watch Ryot until he disappears from view, my mind already filling with unwanted worry.
Fuck it. Maybe a drink—or ten—is exactly what I need right now.
“Mmm,” I answer, clearly distracted. “Only if we can get very, very drunk.”
